


Of molting and mutations

by VeniceErin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drabble, Fantrolls, Headcanon, Troll Biology (Homestuck)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-15 21:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17536877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeniceErin/pseuds/VeniceErin
Summary: Erinek is well overdue for his adult shed. Being short means the ochre blooded troll is a bit of a late bloomer.Contains highly speculative troll biology, and because I have no self control, tails and beans on trolls.





	Of molting and mutations

Erinek had only read about his adult molt, but he already wasn't looking forward to it at all. His whole body felt like it was getting uncomfortably hugged from every angle, and sometimes when he makes a sudden movement, his shorter than average little fingers slip slightly in the old, milky gray chitin. His back feels odd.  
Over the day the slipping has gotten worse. Toe pads feel weird, thighs and especially his hips feel so incredibly tight, and an odd feeling in his horns makes him want to itch them so bad. But he had been instructed not to. That would mess up the entire shed. Gosh what would happen if the chitin got stuck? He's worried he have to call somebody for help, even in such a vulnerable state.  
He scarfs down some pizza, being famished as he is, and feels kinda sluggish as his body prepares for the impending shed. He's a late bloomer, almost a sweep late, though that is pretty common for trolls of his shorter than average height. He is in nothing but a pair of sweatpants.  
That night things feel especially tight, but his back hasn't split yet. Looking in the mirror, his eyes still look odd to him, and his face is an odd milky medium gray, signature of the fun ahead. He groans.

The following morning, while his chitin is softened from the sopor, he lifts himself out as carefully as possible with his weak psionics. He needs to go to his ablution trap. Now.  
He can already feel the split forming right down his back, from being softened like a tiny legume in water overnight. He's gonna need to wash his fronds and keep his palmhusk nearby.  
Quickly, he goes into his ablution block with phone in a towel, and sits in the hollow of the tub. Sudden release as his back splits finally, and an alien sensation suddenly hits something on his back. Oh. Oh Gog. Is that a mutation? They are still white, folded delicately, and brand new, but sure enough. Those are wings. They are stark against what he can see in the split of his back, which is a still soft, deep deep grey.  
Instinct overtakes him as he lays on his back, arms and legs wiggling like one would attempt to get a full body, overly tight and stiff pair of skinny jeans off. Flex. Flex. Flex.  
His legs come out first, slipping out of the stiff chitin nicely. Brand new, fresh and soft chitin takes it's place. Comparing his new to his old, he'd be slightly above the average height for a pre-molt troll, and he groans loudly. Still short.  
His arms come next, slipping out one finger at a time and taking a bit of effort to get free, since his wrists are so dainty and slender. And now that his hands come free, they look a bit better, actually. His pinkies are still short though.  
Next is his head, as he encourages the still fairly soft chitin to split down the chin with a metal prodder, and pulls it apart carefully. Blinking several times, and gagging as thin chitin comes out of his sniffnodes, he wiggles his sensitive, longer ears, and leans back so they don't permanently flop.  
Looking at his shed, slimy with residue and the sweat of his exertions, another sigh. His wings uncomfortably shift underneath himself, and he moves to sit up. The inside of his shed is gross and his pores are all open. Ew, like a reverse zit, gross! He balks at the thought and buries it deep in his pan where it belongs.  
Laying there, he rests groggily with the shed in one side and himself sitting against the side on the other end. He doesn't look at his shed. He can feel blood slowly pumping into his new wings, which seem to be two sets, a larger, wavy, almost feathery pair, and a shorter display pair underneath them. The display pair has something like a swallowtail, where the end is hooked much like his horns. They are gradually turning yellow. It's gonna be hell.  
His skin is slightly velvety, and a thick fuzz lines the orange and red of his horns, with a finer peach fuzz on the yellow. Hardening new chitin feels soft to the touch, barren of the proof that Alternia is so cruel, or that he has been scratched several times, or the pitch marks that used to be on his back. That's gonna be a hotspot of sensitivity.  
Even his tail is soft, the chitin being thinner there, especially along the tip. The base is full of nerves that lead to the twin end tufts, which he might be able to test the air with if he is ever able to test his new wings out. His fingerpads and claws still need to harden before he can do anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Yo hey let me know if I missed any typos or something, and thanks for reading!


End file.
